


Chapter Five - Spilling Secrets

by queerofthedagger



Series: Merlin Stories [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Magic Revealed, Pre-Slash, Round Robin, The Round Table Round Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofthedagger/pseuds/queerofthedagger
Summary: Merlin learns that divine intervention is a double-edged sword. Or, as the goddess would say–the finalization of the first step.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merlin Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728040
Comments: 26
Kudos: 226
Collections: Merlin Round Table Round Robin





	Chapter Five - Spilling Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fifth chapter of [The Round Table Round Robin](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merlin_Round_Table_Round_Robin) organised by the marvellous [tehfanglyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish) ❤️
> 
> You can find the previous chapters here: 
> 
> [Chapter One - Keeping Secrects](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merlin_Round_Table_Round_Robin/works/26545822) by [FervidAsAFlame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FervidAsAFlame/pseuds/FervidAsAFlame)  
> [Chapter Two - Wayward Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merlin_Round_Table_Round_Robin/works/26656576) by [undercardboardstars ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercardboardstars/pseuds/undercardboardstars)  
> [Chapter 3 - Temptation](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merlin_Round_Table_Round_Robin/works/26774329) by [highlynerdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlynerdy/pseuds/highlynerdy)  
> [Chapter 4 - Euraidd ac Arian](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merlin_Round_Table_Round_Robin/works/26915602) by [AeonTheDimensionalGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonTheDimensionalGirl/pseuds/AeonTheDimensionalGirl)
> 
> This got a bit longer than I meant it to, and I hope that I did the terrific previous chapters justice!

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Merlin blurts, and yes, alright, he can admit that on the list of things he should be focusing on right now, that one’s probably on the very bottom. But his mind is curiously blank, still hung up on the goddess herself talking to him, while his heart is trying to beat out of his chest at the sight of Arthur’s blank expression.

“Well, and you’re supposed to be anywhere but here. Talk to the triple goddess often, do you?” Arthur says, and Merlin winces at the tone of his voice. It’s deliberately controlled, the kind of tone he uses when he’s dealing with obnoxious nobles or visiting royals who he doesn’t like but has to deal with for the sake of their treaties.

Merlin’s not particularly keen to have it directed at himself. “I was just–it’s not–“ he starts, but he really has no idea how to talk himself out of this one. Doesn’t know how long Arthur has been standing there, and if he _should_ talk himself out of this in the first place. “I only wanted–“

“Merlin, _please_ ,” Arthur interrupts, and for a moment, the detached mask flickers, weariness and uncertainty breaking through. He runs a hand through his hair before his shoulders straighten again, the lines around his eyes hardening as he meets Merlin’s gaze once more. “I _know_.”

And just like that, the floor seems to break away from underneath Merlin’s feet. His stomach is rolling, numbness spreading through his chest and wrapping around his ribs so tightly, he’s sure he can’t be breathing anymore.

It’s clashing with his magic still trying to soothe him, and the spark of anger igniting at the base of his spine as the full meaning sinks in. “You know?” he somehow presses out, and he barely recognises his own voice, fear and fury and the hysterical urge to laugh somehow coalescing into two words.

Before he knows what’s happening, Arthur’s standing in front of him, hands hovering an inch above Merlin’s shoulders. “Not for long, just–since the Druids arrived,” Arthur says, and there’s a hint of worry now even though he’s still trying to hide it.

Footsteps sounding from outside the room cut off whatever Arthur meant to say next, and he glances over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says, grabbing Merlin’s wrist and dragging him along, though not before gesturing to the dagger and the vambraces. “Don’t forget those.”

Merlin wouldn’t be able to resist if he wanted to and lets himself be moved through the castle. His mind is still reeling with the most recent revelation; while it does explain some of Arthur’s strange behaviour over the last few days, it simply doesn’t add up. The Druids have been more than annoyingly persistent that Merlin finally tells Arthur who he is, and he doubts that they’d go behind his back in the first place.

Still, he holds his tongue until they arrive wherever Arthur is dragging him off to, which turns out to be his chambers. As soon as the door clicks shut behind them with silent finality, Merlin tears himself away, putting a few feet of distance between them.

“How did you find out?” he asks, and he knows that he might not be in the position to demand anything. Knows that he should probably be careful and weigh his every word, but the question is burning on his tongue and strangling the air out of him with so much intensity, he’d be going mad trying to hold it in a second longer.

The idea that Arthur _knew_ , knew while Merlin has been staggering underneath the pressure of the fear and the guilt and the lies, is leaving him dizzy with dread.

Arthur’s leaning against the closed door, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and Merlin can see him taking measured breaths before he answers. “The stone, when you found it–which colour was it?”

The question is unexpected enough that he answers before thinking too much about it. “A deep red. But why–“

“And after you touched it?” Arthur interrupts, his brows rising as if there’s a clue in his line of questioning that’s supposed to tell Merlin something.

He has to clench his jaw against the sharp retort burning on the tip of his tongue. “Golden,” he forces out instead, silently begging that there’s an actual point to all this.

“Golden like your magic, maybe?” Arthur says, and his voice is so terribly flat that Merlin can’t tell what he’s thinking. “What did the goddess tell you was the purpose of the stone?”

Merlin frowns, struggling to untangle his thoughts enough to recall her words. “That she sent it with the Druids on purpose. That it’s–“ he breaks off, and he can feel his eyes widen in sudden understanding. “The first step. But not only for me to receive her gifts, but…” he trails off again, unable to get words about _trust_ past his lips.

There’s a grim smile twisting Arthur’s features, and he pushes himself away from the door. “Imagine my surprise when the Druids handed me the stone as a gift, purposely to assist me on the path to fulfil my destiny. A destiny I was not aware of, and that they refused to elaborate on. Did you know that when I received the stone, it was white?”

Just like that, the pieces click into place, and Merlin doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. “The stone showed you,” he whispers, rubbing a hand over his face.

He’s met with silence, and when he finally brings himself to look at Arthur again, he finds him sitting in his chair, head tipped back and the candlelight playing over his features. Maybe sensing Merlin’s gaze, he tilts his head to look at him. The fight has drained from his features, his shoulders slumped, and there’s only exhaustion left within every line of his body.

“Did you really think I would harm you? After everything, do you still think me so much like my father?” Arthur asks, and his voice is heavy now, full of self-doubt and defeat.

Merlin crosses the distance between them before he can think better of it, only the table separating them. He curls his fingers around the worn wood and forces the words around his heart that has lodged itself firmly in his throat. “ _No_. No, Arthur, that’s not why I didn’t tell you. It’s–“ He huffs, his voice failing him after all, and he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to get a grip on himself.

“Gods, Merlin,” Arthur says with a sigh. “You–I mean–Surely you must know that there’s barely anything you could do that would make me truly hate you, right? Do you really think so little of me, that I’d ignore everything we’ve been through when all you’ve done with your magic is help me build this kingdom?”

“It’s not about the magic or–or trust,” Merlin bursts out, his vocal cords apparently deciding to work again in the face of Arthur’s dejection. Dropping into the chair across from Arthur, he takes a deep breath and goes on more quietly. “It’s just–there are so many things I’ve done that I’m not proud of. That I should’ve done differently, _better_ , and yet–I would do all of it a thousand times over if it meant keeping you safe.”

He chances a glance at Arthur and finds him watching him already. The last remains of tension have bled off his shoulders and his eyes are soft in the way Merlin likes to believe is only ever directed at him.

It makes something warm, something suspiciously like _hope_ uncurl in his chest, and he has to avert his eyes again to get the next words out. “I don’t think you’d be thrilled with a lot of the things I’ve done, and I don’t know how to explain to you that I can’t truly regret any of it. I’m scared of what it would make you think of me, of magic, of the changes you’re planning to implement.”

Taking another deep breath, he finally meets Arthur’s eyes head-on. “I’m sorry for lying to you, for not telling you sooner. I wanted to, so many times, and it hasn’t been about fear for my life or a lack of trust in a long time.”

“Figures that you’d be so hopeless at it, the goddess herself decided to intervene,” Arthur says, and there’s so much fond teasing in the words that Merlin’s helpless against the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Prat,” he says, half out of habit, and half out of desperation to return to more familiar ground; to feel less exposed, to see if there’s hope for them to make it out alright.

Arthur must be finding some of the worries on his face because he leans forward, covering Merlin’s hands with his own to stop him from fidgeting. He doesn’t say anything though, just stares at their hands resting on the table, and Merlin bites back the endless stream of explanations to let him think.

The warm skin against his own soothes some of the nervousness still coursing through his veins, but it also sends his heart racing for completely different reasons.

Eventually, Arthur sighs, glancing up at Merlin. “Just how much have you done for Camelot? For _me_?”

Merlin shrugs, but he suspects it comes across as more on the jerky side. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to tell you– _will_ tell you–but if I start now, we’re still going to sit here tomorrow.”

“The stone showed me some of it,” Arthur murmurs, and Merlin’s not sure if he’s supposed to hear it at all. He does though, and instantly wonders what the goddess deemed important enough to show Arthur. Considering that he’s taking all this better than Merlin would’ve ever expected, it can’t be the worst of it. “Some other things, I put together myself. A lot of events suddenly make more sense, though I could not have come up with you apparently being nobility,” Arthur says, a note of teasing bleeding into his voice again.

Right, Merlin could’ve done without the goddess revealing that particular piece of information, simply because he’ll never live it down.

Tilting his head, he musters Arthur, his fingers clenching involuntarily around his hand. “And you–you’re not angry? I’ll tell you, I promise, but you don’t–“ _hate me_ , is what he wants to ask, but the words keep themselves locked behind his teeth.

Arthur’s lips twist as if he knows exactly what Merlin meant to say, and he probably does. “I’ve never questioned your loyalty and I–I get why you were scared,” Arthur finally says, his eyes not once leaving Merlin’s. “So no, I’m not angry. Just–any more life-shattering secrets I should know about?”

The answer should be simple, considering the severity of his magic, but it’s not. Merlin thinks of lingering touches that still let his heart skip a beat, thinks of the warmth wrapping around his bones whenever Arthur does something noble and brilliant and _good_. Thinks of Arthur looking at him with unmistakable fondness in his eyes, and of how long it’s been since Merlin could fool himself into believing that everything he does for Arthur is solely due to destiny, and not simply and wholly out of anything but love.

He must’ve taken too long to answer because Arthur’s expression tightens once more, and he withdraws his hand. “Merlin, please,” he says, his voice so exhausted and worn out that Merlin’s chest aches.

And Merlin–Merlin stares at him, golden firelight from the candles dancing over his skin, like even the light can’t help but be drawn to him. Stares at him and doesn’t see the king, but the man he’s spent the better part of a decade with, who’s forgiven him for things he doesn’t even yet know about.

He’s not sure if it’s the giddiness from it all or the goddess still meddling in his life, or if he’s gone simply insane, but he thinks, _what is one more secret finally getting out in the open?_

**Author's Note:**

> And thus, I excitedly hand this over to my successor! ❤️


End file.
